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He didn’t even know where to start with this crazy shit. He hadn’t gotten anywhere with it fifteen years ago. He had even fewer ideas now.
And even if he did resolve this mystery, that was no guarantee at all that he could hang on to the princess. He was perfectly capable of fucking this up, even without the help of a homicidal maniac.
He’d been a fuck-up since he could remember. He’d driven old Eamon nuts with his nonstop chatter, his off the wall energy, his shit-for-brains impulsiveness. But even the most severe punishments his father came up with never calmed him down, or shut him up, or taught him sense. He just ended up bouncing off the walls that much harder.
Davy and Con loved him, he knew that, but they were always on edge, scared he would do something crazy. Hurt himself, or someone else. The only person he’d ever been able to relax and chill with, who wasn’t always irritated and aggravated by him, had been Kev. And Liv, for that brief, fabulous interval. And then they’d both disappeared.
He’d been passed from one prison to another his whole life. His father’s degenerating illness had been the first, then the hell of public school. The coursework had been a joke. It was staying square with the powers that be, keeping out of trouble, that he couldn’t seem to grasp. No matter how he tried, he kept fucking up. Like college. Losing his scholarship, for some sweaty afternoon quickies with the dean’s wife.
Then he’d met Liv. That had felt so effortless, so precious, so exquisitely right. Until he’d been forced to destroy it with his own hands.
Then Kev’s death. Accepting lies for truth had put him in still another prison. A metal box in the dark for his mind. He’d huddled in that box for fifteen years. It was like he was under a goddamn curse.
But now the bonds were broken. The box was open. He felt so lost, so disoriented. Cut loose, scared shitless.Liv.His need for her was stronger than any bond he’d ever felt. So was the fear, that she might decide she didn’t want him anymore.
He couldn’t take that. He’d lost enough, suffered enough, fucked up enough for any one lifetime.
This time, losing her would kill him.
CHAPTER17
Liv didn’t want to wake up from this dream. She was awash in erotic sensations, every nerve kissed and caressed. Swimming in pleasure, like raw fresh honey, but something was pulling her to wakefulness. A sound that would not stop, a moaning whimper.
It was coming from her own throat. She opened her eyes, blinking in the morning light. Incredibly warm, held tight against a hot, hard male body. Her thighs were splayed, and Sean’s skillful hand moved between them. His fingers made wet sounds as they stroked and delved and circled. She was sopping wet, squirming with excitement.
Oh, please. Again? This was beyond ridiculous. This was insane.
He smiled into her eyes. “Sleeping beauty,” he whispered.
He was outrageously beautiful when he smiled. She was so dazzled, she just smiled helplessly back as he rolled on top of her, and entered her. Her inner flesh fluttered in protest at the slow stretch, sore from all the unaccustomed sex, but she was too aroused to care. He gathered her into his arms and moved, staring into her eyes with fierce intensity, as if he were trying to tell her something.
She wrapped her arms and legs around him, and moved with him, trying to listen.
It was a slow dance, a lazy, sensual heaven of tender intimacy. He started kissing her, his warm, soft lips coaxing hers open, exploring, claiming. The thrust of his tongue in her mouth echoed the thrust of his penis. She had never felt so alive. She was so present in her body it was almost frightening. Everything was so bold and sharp. She surged against him, rocking on heaving waves of delicious sensation.
She didn’t want it to end, but the shimmering glow between her legs kept growing until it brightened and swelled to bursting. The wave carried her sweetly away. When she drifted back, she found him still inside her, still hard. She blinked at him. “Um, didn’t you come?”
“I had more orgasms than I can count.” He kissed her jaw, nuzzled her throat. “I just didn’t ejaculate.”
She lifted her head, blinking. “Don’t you need to?”
“There’s no law says I have to.” His voice was soft with amusement. “And I’m not wearing latex.”
“Oh. There is that,” she murmured. “I didn’t know guys could do that. Is this another one of your dancing bear tricks?”
He grinned his appreciation. “You could say that. It’s just manipulating energy, controlling your breathing, knowing what muscles to squeeze, and when. It’s a trick of concentration.”
“And practice, too, right?” An edge crept into her voice. “Years of daily practice, I bet.”
He slanted her a cautious look. “You always start whaling on me when we get anywhere near that subject. I’m tired of being pounded.”
He dragged himself slowly out of her body, with a long, hissing indrawn breath of pleasure, and flopped onto his back. His penis lay stiff and hard against his belly. Gleaming wet from her juices.
She gazed at him, bemused. “You can just leave it like that?”
Mischief flashed in his eyes. “You want some more?”
“No, thanks,” she said hastily. “I’m done for now. It just looks like you’re, ah, not done. In the least.”
